


four for six

by demotu



Series: top shelf, glove side [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Game(s), Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu/pseuds/demotu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That's three,” Oshie says, none of Jonny's smugness but all of his confidence. “Whatcha gonna give me for four, Kaner?”<br/>Pat really wishes he had his mouthguard, something to spin and lick, except he probably shouldn't be distracting Oshie right now, so he just shoulders him and says, “Fuck four; you win this for us, you get to ask for anything.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	four for six

**Author's Note:**

  * For [electrumqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/gifts).



> [Electrumqueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen) absolutely bullied me into writing this, lamenting the lack of Kaner threesomes at the Olympics and peppering me with details about Backes and Oshie until I gave in and wrote the filthiest porn, because anything more would require me to (a) care about the success of the US men's hockey team (go team Canada!) and (b) know more than three facts about the Blues. Sorry Blues/Team USA fans! This way lies only smut.

~

 

Pat squirms a little, perched on the edge of the boards, as Backes leans over and whispers in his ear, breath hot. “His cheeks go red like that when he sucks your cock. He smiles like that, too, especially when you come all over them.”

Pat turns away and watches Oshie line up for the next attempt, knowing he's going red, too, as Backes grips his arm under the pretence of keeping him from falling off. Oshie skates like he's got all day, smooth and easy and Backes says, “He takes it exactly the same way,” and Pat's hard as _fuck_ when he leaps up to cheer the goal.

It's a really fucking good thing Bylsma's not gonna put him in, because Pat's pretty sure the only thing he's gonna be shooting is _off_ , if the way Oshie skates over and grins down at him like he knows exactly what Backes is saying is any indication. “That's three,” Oshie says, none of Jonny's smugness but all of his confidence. “Whatcha gonna give me for four, Kaner?”

Pat really wishes he had his mouthguard, something to spin and lick, except he probably shouldn't be distracting Oshie right now, so he just shoulders him and says, “Fuck four; you win this for us, you get to ask for anything.”

Oshie wins it for them. Well, Quickie wins it for them too, but Oshie’s the one Pat offered himself up to. In the dressing room afterwards, watching Oshie bounce between his teammates, accepting hugs and congratulatory punches with a brilliant grin, Pat can’t really feel sorry about it. When Backes pries Oshie out of the third enthusiastic hug he’s given Quick, Pat follows the drag of Backes’ palm along Oshie’s sweaty back. Oshie stills momentarily under the pressure, and then twists away to strip off his gear, measured and precise as Backes does the same in the stall next to him. Pat makes himself stop watching to strip as well, but he can’t help but wonder if Oshie calms under Backes’ touch as nicely in bed as he does in the locker room.

 

~

 

The early game means the team dinner goes long, half shop-talk and half watching the other Olympians compete on the monitors as they eat. Pat sits next to JVR and enjoys the fact that he’s perfectly happy not to deconstruct every missed chance in the game, like _some_ people Pat could name, at least not over food. Pat, for once, doesn’t sign a single autograph through the meal, but eventually Backes starts turning other athletes away in an attempt to give Oshie a few minutes to actually eat. Oshie doesn’t seem to care, happy to be distracted from refueling to throw his hands around and describe each of his moves to every willing fan. He doesn’t look at Pat once, and Pat wonders if he even remembers what had been said during the game. It’s not like they’ve ever _done_ anything before; Oshie is Jonny’s friend, not Pat’s. Pat’s not even sure why Backes trusted him enough to make it obvious that Oshie is, well, _his_.

And then, you know, proposition Pat on Oshie’s behalf. Pat’s down with that, though. It’s the Olympics, he’s the only Blackhawk on the team, if he wants to slut it up with as many proud Americans as possible, nobody’s here to judge him. Jonny might judge him hard for Backes, but the guy saves puppies, you can’t hate him _that_ much.

Still, as much of an invitation as earlier sounded like, Pat’s not gonna make any assumptions. If Oshie wants to collect, Pat will be waiting.

 

~

 

“Kaneeeeer,” Oshie says cheerfully, shoving JVR over on the couch to squish himself in next to Pat and throw an arm around his shoulders. “I’m learning what it’s like to be you tonight, man.”

“By kicking ass at shootouts, you mean?” Pat asks, grinning. Oshie sounds kind of high, but Pat’s figured out by now that that’s just Oshie’s default personality.

“Uh, please,” Oshie says, rolling his eyes. “I’m way used to that shit. No, I mean cause I’ve had to answer like, a billion questions about Jonny today.”

Pat laughs, shrugging his shoulder into Oshie’s side. “You get fucking used to it. Just wait til he chirps you back about three-for-three being more impressive than four-for-six.”

“The asshole will, won’t he,” Oshie says, looking fond. He picks his hand up off the couch and plants it on Pat’s head, scrubbing til Pat’s sure his hair’s a disaster. “Fuck four though, it’s winning that counts, huh _Patrick_?”

Pat licks his lips and spreads his knees a little, pressing Oshie’s aside. “Well, it wasn’t a medal game, but you might be able to collect some hardware anyway.”

Oshie bursts out laughing. “That’s fucking awful, man,” he says, and then lowers his voice to add, “Davey’s upstairs, you coming?”

“He’s in charge of the flower ceremony, huh?” Pat asks, sure he’s seen enough to know that Oshie’s not the one running this show.

“Well, yeah,” Oshie says, grin lopsided as he drops his palm to the back of Pat’s neck. “Captains, you know how they are.” He squeezes his hand and lets go to stand up, letting Pat follow him out of the common room.

 

~

 

Backes - David, Pat mentally corrects, because as a rule he tries to think about the people he fucks in a less-than-antagonistic way - grins broadly at Pat when they come into the shared room, and sends TJ immediately to shower.

“Keep your hair dry, idiot,” David calls fondly after him and then shuts the bathroom door, turning around to lean on it and watch Pat steadily. “Kaner.”

“Pat’s cool,” he offers. David quirks an eyebrow, and Pat elaborates. “Kaner’s for the ice. This isn’t - there.”

“Ah. We’re less…”

“Compartmentalized?”

“Big word,” David says with a smirk. “But not wrong.”

“S’cool, man,” Pat says honestly. “You tell me where I need to go, I’m not gonna mess with anything.”

“I can work with that,” David says before straightening and rapping a fist on the door. “Three minutes, kid!”

TJ’s “fuck you, man!” is clear through the door, but David just laughs and steps over to the bed, sitting back on it until he’s leaning against the headboard.

“Get comfortable, Patrick,” David says, and _yeah_ , Pat can tell he’s gonna be good at that, what with the way even those simple words curl into him. He kicks off his sneakers and unzips his hoodie, tossing it aside.

“Should I wait for?” Pat asks, fingers playing at the edge of his t-shirt.

“No, take it off.” Pat strips it off, and David waves a hand and says, “Keep going,” so Pat does, socks and jeans and boxers in a puddle on the floor in fifteen seconds flat. He’s been sporting a semi for most of the evening in anticipation, and it swells up under David’s appreciative gaze.

“You want a word?” David asks lightly, eyes roaming up Pat’s body to meet Pat’s. “I’m not planning anything intense.”

“Not looking for anything that will need one,” Pat says, easy. He steps over to the bed and kneels next to David’s hip. “I’ll do what you ask, unless I don’t want to.” He’s not looking for orders, tonight.

“Fair enough,” David says, and slides his hand up the inside of Pat’s thigh until his thumb’s pressed along the crease of Pat’s groin.

“Mm,” Pat hums, spreading his legs a little and gripping David’s shoulder for balance. David’s fingers curl in and drag lightly along his balls before sliding along his dick, just a tease that sends shivers up Pat’s spine and more blood rushing to his dick.

The water shuts off, and TJ’s head sticks out of the bathroom.

“Should I - hey!” he says, indignant. “Wait for me!”

“Hurry the fuck up and we won’t have to,” David says, palming Pat’s hip and then tugging him sharply until Pat twists around and falls into his lap. “And yes, dry off.”

TJ makes an unhappy noise but ducks back into the bathroom. Pat lets David prod him until Pat’s tucked between his legs, his bare back pressed to David’s t-shirt covered chest. Pat sinks back, relaxing as David rubs his callused palms up his legs, across his belly, and up to his chest. By the time TJ steps back out of the bathroom, dry and naked, Pat’s got his head tipped back onto David’s shoulder and is panting in time with the circles David’s thumbs are drawing around his nipples.

“Screw you, Davey,” TJ says, tossing his towel onto a chair and coming up to the foot of the bed. “Kaner said _I_ would get whatever I want.”

“Uh huh,” David says, low and amused in Pat’s ear. He wraps his huge hands around the inside of Pat's thighs, pulling them up and out. Pat shifts his feet to the outside of David’s legs, getting an approving hum. “You’re saying there’s something here you don’t want?”

TJ’s mouth drops open a little - and Jesus, Pat thinks, people say he’s got a mouth for sucking cock, but TJ’s is wide and pink and Pat really, really hopes that’s something David thinks TJ wants.

“Fuck, okay,” TJ says finally, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck, the other scratching aimlessly at his hip. Pat watches curiously as his eyes flit all over the place, from David’s hands, still pressed to his thighs, to his mouth, down to his dick, before sliding off to the door. “Did we lock -”

“Kid,” David interrupts, wrapping a hand around Pat’s dick and starting a steady, light stroke. “Trust me, I’ve got this.”

TJ calms a little, dropping his hands back by his sides with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I just - you wanted to give me something, I don’t want it to get fucked up.”

Pat’s been - and done - a lot of things, but he’s never been somebody’s _reward_. The thought feels as good as the handjob, maybe even better, and he shudders, toes flexing into the bedspread. He groans in annoyance as David pulls his hand away from Pat’s dick, but David circles his wrists instead, keeping him from taking over. It’s a suggestion of a grip, finger and thumb wrapped around Pat’s wrists, but Pat’s more than okay with going along with it for now.

“So,” Pat says, voice low in his chest. “I said TJ could ask for anything. What’s he gonna ask for, David?”

“Let’s start with a kiss,” David says thoughtfully, pressing Pat’s hands gently into the bed and spreading both their legs wider. “C’mon, TJ. There’s room.”

TJ doesn’t hesitate, just shuffles up the bed until his knees are tucked up by Pat's ass, back enough on his heels to keep his erection from knocking into Pat’s. He’s good, actually, better than Pat was expecting from his whining and twitchiness, and keeps his hands off both of them, tucked behind his back. Pat smiles up at him and wets his lips with his tongue.

“C’mere, babe,” Pat says, pleased at the slow blink the endearment gets out of TJ. “You earned it, fair and square.”

TJ nods, intent, and leans over carefully, balancing his weight so he doesn’t fall into Pat as he presses their mouths together. It’s chaste for a moment, until David nudges Pat’s ear with his nose and Pat tilts his head. TJ’s mouth falls open as they slot closer together, and Pat lets his tongue reach out and slide wetly against TJ’s. He breathes in on TJ’s sharp exhale, letting the kiss get wider and deeper and wetter. David lets go of Pat’s wrists and wraps an arm around Pat’s chest; when TJ pulls back Pat can see it’s because David’s pushing against his collarbone, letting TJ relax instead of holding himself steady.

“Your mouth is, fuck,” TJ pants, leaning heavily against David’s braced arm. He lets out a small, plaintive noise as David draws his free hand across Pat’s mouth, fingers pressing into his wet lower lip. “Davey, can I, I want.”

“You’ll get,” David says, pulling down Pat’s lip with his thumb and then letting go. “Trust me, kiddo, I know what you want.”

“Sorry,” TJ says, pulling back to sit on his haunches, sheepish. “I’ll stop asking, I promise.”

“How about we make it a little harder for you to ask?” David says, hands sliding back down Pat’s stomach. Pat shivers a little, hoping that - yeah, “Swallow him for me, TJ.”

“Oh fuck,” Pat moans, pressing his heels into the bed as TJ shifts back and brings his head down to press his lips to Pat’s dick where it’s lying against his abs. “Knew this would be a good - holy, _god_.” Because, yeah, David’s got a hand wrapped around him and TJ’s working his lips down around Pat’s dick _and_ David’s thumb, pressed up alongside as he holds it out. Pat’s dick is built like the rest of him, thick over long, and even TJ’s wide mouth has to stretch to take it in. It looks _amazing_ , and the spasm of TJ’s throat around the head feels even better.

“Glad I’m sober,” Pat gasps out, arching his neck back. “Couldn’t not come down his throat right now if I was buzzed.”

David laughs and licks his neck, making Pat cry out and pump his hips up. David doesn’t let him go far, keeps him down with his hands. Pat can feel TJ struggle with it for one, two - and then relax again, holding him in before pulling back to breathe.

“Mind if I touch?” Pat asks, twisting his hands in the bedspread in case it’s not alright.

“Be my guest.”

Pat buries his hands in TJ’s stupid, shaggy hair and shuts his eyes to breathe through the blow job. He’s put a lot of work into learning to not come too quickly to enjoy the full show, and pressed between David’s firm, wide body and TJ’s wet, talented mouth, Pat’s drawing on everything he’s got. He has to pull TJ back, far enough so he can only mouth at the head, when David slides his free hand behind Pat’s balls and presses.

“Fuck, okay, okay,” Pat says with a groan. “Don’t make me come, not yet.”

“Off, TJ,” David says immediately, and Pat lets his fingers slide out of TJ’s hair as he sits back, mouth slick with spit and cheeks exactly as pink as David promised at the game. David slides his hand back up to cup Pat’s balls gently, and then lets go to push at Pat’s shoulders. Pat takes the hint and sits up, pulling in his legs so David can slide out from behind him.

TJ’s breathing deep but steady between Pat’s legs, cheeks flushed and eyes a little sleepy as they track David around the side of the bed. There’s not a lot of room on the narrow beds, so David doesn’t have to reach far to pull TJ over to lean against him, pressing his forehead into his hip and gesturing at Pat to stand up. Pat does, and David lets go of TJ to pull Pat up flush against his front. Pat shivers at the rough slide of his dick on David’s jeans, and the press of his palms under Pat’s ass as he pulls him up a little for a kiss. Pat doesn’t consider himself to have a type - being flexible is a point of pride for him - but _god_ , David knows exactly what to do with his size. Pat lets himself melt against David’s chest, hitching his hips against the thigh David’s worked between his legs.

David pulls away when TJ whimpers beside them, pressing a hand to TJ’s head.

“It is a great mouth, hmm, kiddo?” he says. “I think you earned it today.”

Pat’s down to suck TJ’s dick, but David’s got different ideas, pushing TJ face first up the bed and telling him to brace himself against the headboard. Pat grins and falls back in behind him, spreading his hands across TJ’s back, from the bunched, tight shoulders to the loose drop of his waist and the arch of his ass. He presses his thumbs in and spreads TJ’s cheeks, feeling rather than hearing TJ’s hitch of breath.

“Hey, nice,” Pat says admiringly, stroking a finger over the barely-there fuzz around TJ’s hole. “Prepped for the Olympics, huh?”

TJ answers with a muffled moan into his own bicep, and Pat takes that as a sign that it’s time to get his mouth on that. He curls in, tucking his knees between TJ’s, and presses in with a kiss. He stays soft, chaste - if rimming could ever be anything but filthy, fuck, it makes Pat hard as nails - kissing TJ’s hole gently, like he would his lips post-orgasm, slowly adding in little licks that have TJ trembling underneath him. He’s so _soft_ , pink skin and peach fuzz and Pat gives into that, nuzzling in and dragging his tongue across the twitching muscle in steady, wet strokes.

Pat jumps a little when a wet finger drags down across his own ass, and then relaxes as David pulls him back until he’s stretched out towards the bottom of the bed, hands braced on TJ and knees spread. David’s finger slides in, thick and easy and still until Pat bucks back a little. Pat rocks into it for a bit, working his mouth against the rhythm of the thick press of one, then two of David's fingers inside him. The third, fuck, it’s a stretch, David’s hands are huge, and Pat has to turn his face to the side to breathe through it.

From what he’s felt - and seen, soft in the locker room - of David, he’s gonna need all the prep he can get to take his dick, but David pulls his fingers out after the third and comes round to crouch beside TJ’s hip.

“Ready to ride my boy?” he asks Pat, smile wide as he runs a hand down TJ’s thigh.

“Fuuuck,” says TJ.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” says Pat.

TJ’s eager enough to get turned around, but he settles fast, hands lax by his sides as Pat kneels over him. Pat lets David roll a condom onto TJ’s dick and press it up against him, working it in. Pat shuts his eyes and drops his head back as he sinks down, long and slow until he’s full seated.

“Oh, yeah, babe,” Pat growls, scraping his nails down TJ’s chest and then pressing his palms in to push up. TJ’s pupils are blown wide, but he stays all easy and loose as Pat starts to ride him. “He takes it so good, Jesus.”

David leans over and runs a hand over TJ’s jaw, bending down to press a kiss to his slack lips, and then stands up to shuck his jeans and drag his - yeah, sizeable dick out of his boxers. Pat swallows, grinds down on TJ’s dick as David strokes a few times, but if David wants his dick sucked he doesn’t yet, because he climbs around behind Pat and presses up against him, moving in time with Pat and getting a hand on Pat’s dick.

“Not gonna take much, man,” Pat warns, rhythm stuttering to match the slide of David’s hand over his cock with the thrust of TJ’s inside him.

“S’good,” David says low in his ear, tightening enough to make Pat groan. “TJ, don’t come when Patrick does, you hear me?”

TJ blinks, slow, and lets out a shuddery breath.

“TJ?”

“Yeah, don’t - I won’t,” TJ manages, hands curling tight beside him.

“Good.”

And then, _shit_ , David pushes Pat all the way down with one hand on his shoulder, filling him up with TJ’s cock, speeds up with the other and presses his thumb in _perfectly_. Pat can’t help the shocked cry at the sudden onset of his orgasm. It feels so good to clench around TJ’s dick as his come pulses out across his stomach, and Pat can’t do anything but collapse back into David’s body when he’s finished.

“Oh my god,” says TJ, wide-eyed and trembling underneath him. “That was, can I, _please,_ Davey.”

“Hold on, kid,” David says, voice rough. “Got one more gift for you.”

TJ arches his neck back and pushes up weakly into Pat. “Oh fuck, Davey.”

David helps Pat up off TJ, pressing him down until he’s tucked alongside TJ, and then grabs TJ’s legs and flips him. TJ goes over easy, hands pressed up on the headboard and face tucked into the bedspread. Pat props himself up, breathing hard, since it looks like - _Jesus Christ_ , he needs to see this, because David’s just slicking up and pressing the head of his cock in, nudging TJ open in tiny, sharp thrusts. The only thing that’s been in there yet is the tip of Patrick’s tongue, _fuck._

Pat might be worried, except for the steady, mewling noises TJ’s making into the sheets as David pries him open with his dick. Pat couldn’t tell you for anything how long it takes until David’s hips are flush to TJ’s ass, but he’s pretty sure he hardly breathed through it, and he only moved to let TJ wrap one hand around his wrist. When he’s in, David groans and shifts his knees up over TJ’s thighs, feet hooked around TJ’s calves to keep them spread.

“You good, kiddo?” he asks, hands splayed across TJ’s shoulder blades, thumbs rubbing in soothing circles.

TJ turns his head to the side, fingers spasming around Pat’s wrist, and says, “So good, c’mon, _fuck me._ ”

David does, fast and hard and the hottest thing about it are the breathy, low moans TJ makes on every thrust, eyes closed and cheeks pink and Pat presses a finger into TJ’s mouth, because yeah, he’d want to be sucking on something right now if he were TJ. David presses in and holds when Pat does it, and then switches his rhythm to long, sharp thrusts that make TJ curl in and grind down.

“What do you think, Pat?” David asks, breathing hard. “Think TJ’s been fairly rewarded?”

Pat grins and takes the hint and leans down to press a kiss to TJ’s ear and say, “I think Davey wants you to come on his dick. You gonna collect?”

“Oh fuck,” TJ mumbles around Pat’s finger. “Oh, oh, oh -” and then he bites down hard and twists into the bed and shakes through David’s thrusts. David doesn’t wait too long to follow, bends his head down to bite at TJ’s neck as he shivers under him and then slams in, emptying himself into TJ with a loud groan.

“Jesus,” Pat mouths, pulling his bitten finger out from TJ’s lax mouth and giving his hand a shake. “He really can take it,” he manages out loud.

David huffs a laugh, eyes closed and forehead pressed to TJ’s shoulder. “Importance of a good training regimen,” he says, and then pushes up and pulls out.

Pat wants to see, so he hauls himself up, muscles protesting from the game and the fucking, but it’s worth it to be able to push his fingers into TJ, his hole soft and red and wet with lube and David’s come.

“Mmph,” TJ protests, twitching.

“Sorry,” says Pat, pulling on the rim one last time and then sitting back. He runs his clean hand through TJ’s hair and pulls him over until TJ’s head is resting on his thigh, eyes drifting shut. “You get what you want, though?”

“Yeah,” TJ says, humming as David runs a hand over his flank and then drops a sheet across him. “Four goals in an Olympic shootout. What else could I want?”

Pat looks down at TJ’s sleepy, satisfied grin, and laughs.

“This was pretty good too, though,” TJ adds. “Thanks.”

“For sure, babe,” Pat says, glancing over at David, who’s sprawled out along the other bed, watching them contentedly. “Next time, let’s make it three-for-three in an elimination round, huh?”

Pat just laughs at TJ’s mumbled _fuck you_ , pushing him off enough to slide down the bed and wrap himself around TJ. If it comes to that, well. They might have to wait for a bigger bed and a Hawks-Blues game, or maybe the post-season, but Pat’s pretty sure David would make it worth everybody’s while.

“Thanks for the invite,” Pat says softly into TJ’s skin, looking over at David. “I was – surprised, but thanks.”

David shrugs. “Well, TJ said that Toews said – you know how it goes. Plus, it’s the Olympics.”

 “For sure, man,” Pat says, slotting that piece of info away; way to be a gossip, Jonathan Toews. “Good of the team.”

“Do or die,” TJ sighs sleepily, and Pat lets himself drift off with him, fucked out and content and ready to win.

  
~

 


End file.
